


Bite as hard as your kindness allows

by glossary



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Frottage, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10036961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glossary/pseuds/glossary
Summary: They say the flesh is weak, but the mind gives up first, always. Credence knows everything about surrender.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was written as a fill for [this](https://fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1184.html?thread=2099360#cmt2099360) prompt. the title comes from a line of poetry by natalie wee, from _blue moon_ : Isn’t it good, god, to hold a miracle / between your teeth & bite as hard / as your kindness allows.
> 
> it's quite short but mind the tags. i've tried to edit it some, but? anyway, enjoy!

His hands were trembling. Credence hid them between his thighs.   
  
“What’s the matter?” said Mr. Graves, affable as you please. He put down the cup of coffee and looked at Credence, resting an arm on the back of the sofa. Whenever he moved he looked like poetry in motion: seamless, as easy as falling asleep, and Credence glanced at him – their eyes met by accident – he regretted it quickly, of course, and turned his head. The sunlight coming in through the window made him squint.  
  
“N-nothing, Mr. Graves.”  
  
“You look upset,” said Mr. Graves. Even though his tone was mild his gaze wasn’t, and surely enough after a moment that deceptively still hand reached out and curled around the nape of Credence’s neck, who had to swallow back a shudder. His mouth went dry.  
  
He tried to say _no_ , but it got caught at the back of his throat. Mr. Graves pulled him closer without discernible effort, and Credence went obediently, out of inertia – his Ma didn’t react well to any kind of reticence. Then they were touching, shoulder-to-shoulder to hip and their _legs―_ oh. Credence tried to shuffle his knee away, skittish, but Mr. Graves stopped him by laying a hand on it. It stopped him utterly. He didn’t even know if he was remembering to breathe.  
  
“You look upset,” repeated Mr. Graves, softer. “You know you can trust me, Credence.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“I’m here to help you.”  
  
“Yes, Mr. Graves.”  
  
“And I’ll be here for you even after this,” said Mr. Graves, which finally succeeded in crumbling his pathetic reserve – Credence turned towards him like a flower seeking the sun. Mr. Graves’s lotion smelled intoxicatingly good, and perhaps Credence was already leaning in or Mr. Graves was just that naturally observant – but the hand on his nap pulled him closer, and then his nose was brushing Mr. Graves’s Adam’s apple. Credence released his breath abruptly, which made Mr. Graves chuckle. “Is that it?” he asked. “You should’ve said. That’s normal, Credence.”  
  
“It’s not,” said Credence, but he didn’t move away because he was a coward. “It’s not, you don’t have to lie, I know, I’m sorry, Mr. Graves, I promise I never―”  
  
Mr. Graves hummed thoughtfully. Then he tilted Credence’s head up by his chin and kissed him. There was nothing but dry lips for a moment, as if offering him the opportunity to get used to it, and then Mr. Graves licked his bottom lip once, twice. His tongue retreated as he ghosted their mouths together. Credence’s hand had grabbed Mr. Graves’s waistcoat and he didn’t think he had enough self-control to let go. The kiss came again, and Credence tried to imitate him by opening his mouth, wondering tightly if he was doing it wrong. It wasn’t like he’d know. He’d never been kissed before.  
  
But Mr. Graves didn’t allow him to worry for long, because his tongue brushed Credence’s, and then sank deeper. He licked the inside of Credence’s mouth, his palate, his teeth – then he caught Credence’s tongue and he _sucked._ His head felt stuffed full of fire and smoke. He tried to draw away to swallow but Mr. Graves wouldn’t let him, immobile as stone, and Credence’s mouth filled with saliva that – to his amazement – made Mr. Graves lean closer so he could suck that, too. Some of it dripped down the side of his mouth, inevitably, and they separated just enough so that Credence could take in a deep breath – his lungs were burning – their eyes met again. Mr. Graves’s face was expressionless, but his eyes were dark. A string of saliva connected them.  
  
Credence breathed. Then he licked his own lip and leaned in again. Mr. Graves allowed him to attempt to copy what he’d just seen, although doubtlessly Credence lacked any semblance of skill, but somehow the shame added in a burning urgency to the whole affair that summoned fluttering butterflies low in his belly. Mr. Graves’s hand, which was still on Credence’s thigh, crept up, and up, and up, and then his knuckles were brushing the space in-between his legs. Where he was – he was hard, he was _hard_ and throbbing. Tears blurred his vision but he didn’t close his eyes, just like Mr. Graves, who had them half-lidded. He seemed to find that response positive, although Credence couldn’t say why, because he began to move his tongue again as well, seeking to go deeper into Credence’s mouth. The next time saliva gathered in his mouth – Credence lacked any idea about how one should swallow gracefully – he took it, and then he pushed it back, and Credence tried to accept it obediently… but he was distracted by that hand, which had become very daring indeed and was now pushing down the bulge in his trousers.   
  
He was trembling again. But everywhere.   
  
Desire won the struggle with anxiety, and Credence reached out, too. His fingers were much less sure, far more hesitant, as they tried to find their way blind to Mr. Graves’s waist – he didn’t dare look, afraid he’d lose his nerve – and then he forced himself to go lower, until finally he grazed something hard and hot and… certainly bigger than his, resting crookedly on Mr. Graves’s left thigh. He dared look then, curious, and saw – the fabric of Mr. Graves’s trousers was thin, fit for the warm weather, and the curve of his sex was very visible.   
  
“Oh,” said Credence, softly.   
  
His mouth got caught in a bruising kiss. Any control that Mr. Graves had executed to – in an effort of kindness, Credence was sure – any control at all was gone, and Credence’s head was throbbing in time with what was between his legs. His hand tightened on Mr. Graves’s sex out of pure surprise, which won him a rough purring sound that he was forced to swallow, because Mr. Graves wouldn’t release him, not for anything, holding him so tightly he'd surely bruise later... He was made to sit closer and closer until finally, yes, finally, he was sitting astride Mr. Graves, and they – they _brushed_ together, and it was electric. Mr. Graves incited him to rock with a little jolt of his hips and Credence obeyed quickly, eager to please, overwhelmed by the haze of sensation that had struck him dumb.   
  
He knew this: it felt good. It felt strange. It felt not bad, although too strong. Mr. Graves’s tongue was extremely wet and dragged slowly everywhere he could reach, and one hand had just squeezed his ass in an attempt to make him rock faster, even though Credence – he wasn’t very sure about what they were doing, but – he more or less knew, he was sure, boys with more freedom than him had talked in hushed whispers, and… he was frightened, he was… he wanted… He was trying to breathe desperately, gasping against Mr. Graves’s half-open mouth…  
  
“I want to fuck you,” said Mr. Graves, low, and Credence seized up, muscles tightening with a sudden spastic movement of his hips that touched something perfect, because an explosion of sensation left him blind and deaf and dumb, making a ridiculous high sound that lingered far too long.  
  
Then his bones went liquid. There was no other way to explain it. Mr. Graves caught him and held him close, yes, his fingers going through Credence’s hair, and then he tilted his chin up again and kissed him and Credence tried his best to respond, numb as he was. He felt sticky all over. Mr. Graves grabbed his behind as soon as Credence seemed capable of not falling over on his own and positioned the younger man so that – that – the underside of his butt rested atop Mr. Graves’s erection, and Mr. Graves snapped his hips up in a terrible imitation of what he wanted to do, and Credence knew and not what that meant, and he wanted it, and he was afraid… _I want to fuck you._  
  
But he didn’t know, not really. So he just opened his mouth a bit wider.


End file.
